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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862257">Rising through the ranks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake'>Syrena_of_the_lake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Queen Arachnia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:41:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Someday, Tom would learn to disengage autopilot when he spoke with the Captain. Just not today.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rising through the ranks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/gifts">Curator</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604374">Bad Ensign</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator">Curator</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Cat got your tongue, Ensign?”</p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>“Ensign?” repeated Tom. It was far from the first time Janeway had called him by his new rank, but it landed different when she was wearing the Arachnia dress. For what happened next, he could only blame the sleepless night he spent reviewing every aspect of the Captain Proton program... and that damned dress. “Is that why you demoted me? So we could play Bad Ensign?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Janeway’s eyes widened. Her skin flushed under the webbing of that dress he still couldn’t believe she had tried it on without demanding so much as a higher neckline. Let alone worn it and the mantle of Queen for that unforgettable commanding performance. She’d never even asked how he had known her measurements. (Then again, she never asked questions to which she already knew the answers.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Bad Ensign,” she echoed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom wondered if he should offer to unzip her in back. Or chuck himself out the airlock. You know, something helpful. “I accidentally opened a portal to the fifth dimension,” he said instead, “so I must have been a bad ensign. A very, very bad—” Far too belatedly, his traitorous mouth snapped shut. <em>A very, very bad idea</em>, he finished silently.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Janeway arched an eyebrow. Framed by that towering Queen Bee Bun and deliciously dark lipstick, it probably didn’t have the effect on him that she’d hoped. (Then again, maybe that <em>was</em> the effect she was going for?)</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom stared at her lips, because that was better than staring at her cleavage, right?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Did you get fried by your own Lightning Shield?” Janeway asked.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, but I’m wishing for a Death Ray right about now,” Tom answered truthfully. Not that Janeway’s glare didn’t qualify — but she wasn’t using it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Why wasn’t she using it?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom fixated on those dark, dark lips. Was that a smile? He accidentally-sort-of-on-purpose propositioned his captain, less than a month out of the brig, and she was <em>smiling</em> at him?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Had he also triggered an invasion of the body snatchers?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You are a terrible ensign,” declared Janeway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom blinked. Was that a return proposition? Or a new level of demotion to sub-ensign? He could report to Naomi Wildman and help her with her homework.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I never should have demoted you, Tom. I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her words brought reality crashing back. “I don’t know what to say to that.” Tom’s gaze skittered away.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Janeway crossed her arms. It did fascinating things to her dress, and Tom strove valiantly to keep his eyes on her face. She shot him a knowing look.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Haven’t you punished me enough?” he groaned. His eyes widened in horror when he realized he’d said the words out loud.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I thought that was the point of Bad Ensign?” quipped Janeway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom’s mouth sagged open. Janeway extended a finger and firmly pushed it shut.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Cat got your tongue?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, but I wish you did.” Tom was beginning to think his autopilot was better at this than his conscious mind. Still, it felt like he imagined the Kolvoord Starburst must feel, racing against the igniting plasma trails and flying on blind instinct.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then Janeway threw back her head and laughed. “That’s your cheesiest line yet. Just how much time do you spend on the Holodeck?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>For once, discretion won out. (Well, actually Tom was still weighing the wisdom of his next comeback when Janeway interrupted his train of thought, but that was a lot like discretion — right?)</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Never mind, it’s obviously enough to create Captain Proton, master of the universe, and open a death portal to the sixth dimension.” Janeway arched an eyebrow, daring him to comment on the inaccuracies. Or was that just his imagination?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Was any of this real? Could it be an elaborate prank by Janeway herself? Or had he fallen into the fifth dimension? Or fallen asleep and was having the most uncomfortably vivid dream of his life?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Pinch me,” said Tom.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I didn’t know you were Irish,” Janeway responded dryly. Nevertheless, she obliged.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom yelped. He hadn’t expected her to pinch him <em>there</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Now that I have your attention, I need you to do something for me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Anything</em>. Tom double-checked his instinctive answer and, wonder of wonders, it sounded safe. “Anything,” he said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Get me out of this dress.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Now? With pleasure. Don’t you like it? It’s perfect on you. Even better off you.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe he sounded a little too enthusiastic. Janeway smirked and turned her back to him. A tiny velvet-wrapped button and a web of sheer fabric was the only thing between him and the skin of her shoulders. His fingers ghosted over her neck. With fascination, he watched a wave of goosebumps ebb in his wake. Janeway arched her neck.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She looked every inch the queen.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom unfastened the top button. The sheer fabric parted and fell away with a whisper. He slid the hidden zipper down as far as he dared. And then a little farther still.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Why are you stopping?” she demanded, her voice even lower than usual.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t,” said Tom truthfully, his mouth dry. “I mean, I don’t want to take, uh, liberties. Unless you’re sure.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Janeway twisted around to look up at him. Tendrils of hair had started to escape her magnificent updo. The full force of her grin was breathtaking.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pheromones or no pheromones, Chaotica had never had a chance.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You took liberties when you designed the damn dress,” she pointed out even as she began to shimmy out of it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom’s vocal chords dried up.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Now I expect you to take those liberties to their natural conclusion. Is that clear, Mister Paris?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>You’re the captain </em>was obviously not the appropriate answer for so many reasons. But silk and lace and skin and maybe even the remnants of holographic pheromones were wreaking havoc with Tom’s few functional neurons, and it almost slipped out anyway. Fortunately, autopilot saved him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re the Queen,” he said, and proceeded to treat her as such.</p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p>Later, Tom slipped from bed to pick up The Dress from where they had carelessly discarded it on the floor. He found a hanger in the closet and a protruding bolt in the wall, relic of a hasty repair, and hung the dress there in full view of the bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He slid back under the sheets. “Queen Kathryn,” he murmured, and she rewarded him with a lopsided smile and a lingering kiss.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m restoring your rank,” Janeway announced. “Effective immediately, Lieutenant.” She paused, and her voice grew soft. “Not because of this, Tom... I mean, it’s something I should have done long ago. I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Forgiven and forgotten,” he promised. His fingers trailed up her bare shoulder, tracing constellations among the freckles. How did she freckle when she never got any sun? “Just one thing.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Does that mean we can’t play Bad Ensign?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She tilted her head in mock consideration. “Perhaps later... <em>my liege.</em>” Her voice was the low purr that haunted his dreams.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tom grabbed a fistful of silken sheet and tugged, pulling her closer. Tom spared a moment to wonder if Arachnia and Chaotica would supplant Bad Ensign aboard <em>Voyager</em>. He certainly felt like the master of the universe. Now <em>that</em> was a promotion.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We’ll rule the stars together,” he murmured, and her answering smile was a supernova.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>From its place of honor, The Dress sparkled down on them benevolently, its every sequin a star caught in a web of night.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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